


"Oh yeah everyone loves a windbreaker."

by elainebarrish



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, a gay break, but still a break, this is just lame fluff like I just wanted to give my faves a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elainebarrish/pseuds/elainebarrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You never get a proper introduction to Carol, you just realise that there's a lot of history between her and the others, and the meaningful looks that seem to pass between the older members of the group become something you're used to; you've all done awful things to survive, just the others have all experienced those things together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Oh yeah everyone loves a windbreaker."

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry about this omg I don't like it all it took me ages to write but here is me fervently hoping for more carol/tara interaction next season just so that I can gauge how to write them better oh mygod. Shout out to Caroline for introducing me to The Hell Fandom and making me ship people who have never even spoken to each other.

Alexandria gives you a chance to relax, to pretend like you're all living lives the same as Before, where you worry about things like girlfriends, grades and parties. You miss all three of those things, and find yourself briefly wondering if anyone would object to you throwing a party; the whole group looks as though they could do with a drink. As for the other two things, unless there's a lesbian teacher hanging around the place you're not expecting much to change. You'll probably just continue staring in awe whenever Michonne has her sword and continue to wonder whether Carol's hair is a gay thing or just adorable.

You never get a proper introduction to Carol, you just realise that there's a lot of history between her and the others, and the meaningful looks that seem to pass between the older members of the group become something you're used to; you've all done awful things to survive, just the others have all experienced those things together. The group is big enough that you spend all of your time with Eugene and Rosita anyway, but your eyes are drawn to her often, especially now with her metamorphosis into someone that is nothing like the woman you observed while the group was out on the road. You want to ask Glenn about it but he's busy settling in and looking worried, plus you don't want to explain why you're interested.

You're not really paying attention as you wander into the kitchen, thinking about maybe having some toast or something (you slept through breakfast, a luxury that you couldn't afford before), and so you're already well through the door when you notice Carol sifting some flour into a mixing bowl. Most of the others aren't even in the house, and you could have sworn that this was one of the first times the two of you have been alone.  
"Oh, er, hi," you manage as you set about stealing the last bowl of coco pops, leaning against the counter and looking at Carol curiously while she concentrated on what she was doing.  
"Morning, I suppose you were taking advantage of the lie in," she smiled at you, quickly glancing over her shoulder and then returning to what she was doing.  
"Gotta take extra sleep where you can, right?" You laugh a little, weakly, and try to stare intently into your bowl, considering whether you should give her some space or not - she'd been here first after all.  
"I'm still not used to it, and still too tense to sleep for much longer than a few hours at a time."  
"It's easier to sleep during the daylight," you admitted quietly and she looked at you again, smiling comfortingly, hands covered in flour.  
"Must be easier once the others have gotten up so you don't have someone kicking you every three minutes too, huh?" she smiled, eyes crinkling up in the corners, and you realise this could be very bad for you - who knew you could still form crushes even during the apocalypse.  
"How could you tell Eugene is a kicker?"  
"You complained at him this morning before you monopolised one of the sofas," she smirked, a little, and you laughed, probably not very attractively considering the coco pops in your mouth.  
"Well as Rick was getting up I figured it was fair game," you shrugged, grinning because you couldn't really help it; you always were a useless lesbian. It's quiet for a moment, just the sound of Carol roughly stirring the contents of the mixing bowl.  
"So, what are you making?" It's a lame conversation starter, you know that, but you don't really know much about her, and what do people even talk about these days anyway.  
"Cookies, of assorted flavours, maybe some muffins if I feel like it."  
"Once upon a time I was known to whip up the occasional birthday cake, would you like any help?" you phrase it as jokingly as possible but she stops and looks at you consideringly, as though wondering whether to trust this newcomer with her baked goods.  
"Finish your cereal, then I'll set you to whisking. If I can trust you with that I might even let you line the tin."  
You laughed, still grinning as she smiled at you. "Yes boss."

When Maggie wanders in looking for a snack later the two of you are laughing and drinking tea, suitably covered in flour while you wait for the next batch to come out of the oven. Carol's picked up a lot of gossip in the short amount of time you've been here, and it feels so normal the two of you are happily slipping back into the patterns of Before.  
Maggie looks confused by the laughter but is quickly distracted by the baked cookies cooling on the counter, but her hand is slapped away by Carol before she can even get close.  
"They're for later, for after dinner," she says warningly, glaring at her, and Maggie glares at you both for sniggering.  
"You can't just leave these on the side and expect no one to eat them," she argues, smiling.  
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of leaving these without a guard, that’s what Tara is here for.”  
“There’s still a couple of trays to come out the oven yet anyway, we’re not going anywhere, so don’t even try,” you continued grinning, looking at Carol, exchanging a smile.  
“I didn’t know you were into baking, Tara?” Maggie says with a smile, like she’s somehow worked out why you were there just from that single look.  
“It’s not like I had anything better to do with my day,” you laughed, a little nervously, attempting to act as naturally as possible.  
"No runs today?"  
"No, and I'm thinking of asking to switch to something else anyway; I'm good out there, we all are, but I don't enjoy it. I'd prefer to be doing something here, inside the walls, helping people or something."  
"You don't think they need you?" Carol asks, still smiling even though the conversation has taken a serious turn.  
"No, I think Eugene and me could do with not being out there, Eugene especially. Maybe I'm being selfish," you laugh a little and shake your head. "I like this opportunity to feel safe, I don't want to waste it. Maybe I'll start wearing flowery cardigans and gossiping, too." You joked, grinning at Carol again.  
"I'm sure you'd suit them," Maggie laughs. "I'm sure the rest of the group would just be glad that there's another one of us not risking our lives everyday. I can bring it up with Deanna if you'd like?"  
"Nah I'll go see her at some point, thanks though. I'm not due on another run for like a week anyway, I might have changed my mind by then."  
"She might give you something really hideous as a job instead, and before you know it you'll be missing the walkers," Carol jokes and you laugh.  
"Begging the others to take me back."  
"You could see if you could work with Rick or something, get one of those uniforms," she suggests as Maggie slips out, managing to take a cookie with her. You know Carol notices but she doesn't do anything to stop her.  
"Oh yeah everyone loves a windbreaker."  
"I'm sure you'd look dashing in a tie."  
"Ah you joke but actually in my days at the police academy I found out I look extremely good in a uniform."   
“I didn’t know you’d been in the police academy, before?” Carol asks, quiet but still smiling.  
“Yeah, uh I was actually doing alright when this kicked off, I’m annoyed that the walkers didn’t wait for me to graduate. I could be like Rick, running around with the whole Sheriff thing.”  
“You could always just say that you were a cop, there’s no one here to tell anyone otherwise.”  
“Well so long as you keep it a secret, anyway,” you stage whispered, leaning in, smiling when she copied you, your heads close over the table.  
“Scout’s honour,” she promises, holding up three fingers, and you’re struck with how adorable that is, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t think about kissing that dumb earnest expression off her face.  
“Wow I never knew graduating would be so simple,” you joke and try to stop your eyes flicking down to her lips like you’re in some kind of terrible romance film. You’re saved by the literal bell; the cookies are done. The two of you are distracted by pulling trays out the oven and switching them with some others that had been waiting to go in; there’s enough cookies here for an army, and you were glad you were here to help because while you have no doubts that Carol could have handled this by herself, that's a lot of batter to beat into submission.

The rest of your baking experience passes without any more incidents, and she let's you go with time to spare, but only after she's picked a hiding place for the cookies (you're the only one who knows, so if any go missing she'll know it was you - you're not brave enough to even attempt it). You're just kind of wandering around when Maggie finds you, coming over with a grin on her face, and you're not going to win any competitions for guessing what that's about.  
"So... Baking huh?" she starts, falling into step with you and you just groan, but you're still smiling a little.  
"What? I thought she might need some help.'  
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you were there to do. Help." If possible her grin gets even wider and you can't help the answering blush that spreads across your face.  
"Look just because she is a very attractive woman does not mean I have to like her -" you try, but you trail off as you both start laughing. "Yeah, okay, I like her. But I hardly know her. And she's older than me and we have much more important things to worry about like the end of the world and I'm pretty sure she isn't gay."  
"You've been looking at her since she joined the group, and no one introduced you did they? I bet the mystery made her even more attractive," she teased.  
"Please shut up," you laugh and sigh and look at your hands, and Maggie gives you a more serious look.  
"If you like her you should go for it. Or at least start to spend more time with her. It's the end of the world, we've all got more to worry about than you being a useless lesbian, and honestly you have more to worry about than that."  
"Maybe she'll just think I'm being extra helpful, right?"  
"Exactly, just be really overly helpful. She'll never notice." The two of you laugh all the way back to the house, and Maggie practically forces you to offer to help with dinner.

For the next month you spend a lot of the time wandering around Alexandria or helping Carol with whatever it was that she was doing while she wasn't chatting with the resident mums, or you hang around with Maggie, who's been doing serious work with Deanna or something. You're unsettled by the lack of things to do, but you're also glad that your body is getting a chance to heal; pretty much all of your cuts and scabs are gone by now, and you're almost used to sleeping on something comfortable. You manage to snag more lie-ins, and a couple of times when you wake up and stumble blearily into the kitchen Carol is smiling at you, bowl of cereal already waiting on the side, ingredients spread across the opposite counter. This morning she already has some flour on her face and you find yourself itching to reach out and brush it off, so you busy yourself with your cereal instead, thanking her with a smile, which she waves away as always.  
She doesn't even stop you when you take over from her, stealing the mixing bowl right out of her arms, ignoring your skin touching hers, concentrating on beating the mixture as fast as you can without splashing it all over her, looking up and realising how close this meant the two of you were standing. She looks amused, or something along those lines, and you think about making a knight in shining plaid joke, but decide not to as you haven't actually put your plaid on yet. She's still smiling when you tune back in, and she hasn't moved away. She looks like she's thinking about something, but also slightly mischievous, a slight lifting in the curve of her lips, her eyebrows raised, like she's daring you to make something happen.  
You wish you were braver, as you feel the moment slipping away, as you start to think about stepping back, and you swear something akin to frustration crosses her face, like she's been waiting for this and you're not reacting how she wants you to. You step back, the moment disappears, and you go back to smiling into your mixing bowl, trying to hide the faint blush that you know has spread across your face.  
Ten minutes later you've practically forgotten it happened, you've gone back to smiling and laughing as she makes scathing observations about the people that walk past, says things you know are specifically chosen to make you laugh. You're still giggling about a particularly acerbic comment about someone's jumper as you slide a cake into the oven (it's someone's birthday, though you don't actually know whose), and attempt to brush some of the flour off your tshirt. Carol's a decent baker but she's also rather proficient at making sure everything is messy by the end of the day - you think that's adorable, especially because she was always the cleanest while you were out on the road.  
"Why can you never manage to bake anything without covering everyone involved in flour?" you ask absentmindedly, smiling as you pluck at your tshirt, trying to dislodge the dust.  
“Isn’t that the whole point of baking, that you have to make sure there’s a lot of mess to force someone else into cleaning up?”  
“Well I’m not sure who you’re intending to force into cleaning but it’s not me,” you try, but she’s relentless with her smile and her eyes and her looking at you, and you only hold out for a minute or two.  
“I’ll wash, you can dry,” you say in your most resigned tone, and you practically have to look away when she grins at you, all sparkling eyes and prettier than should be allowed.  
It's mostly comfortably quiet while the two of you efficiently clean up, full of you sighing dramatically while she laughs in response, as if being here washing up was the worst thing you can imagine, and by the time you’re done and the kitchen is spotless, the cake ready to come out of the oven, and there’s water all over your tshirt.  
“Alright, how long do we have to wait until we can decorate it?” you ask excitedly, poking your creation.  
“Until it cools so, a while.” Carol laughed, deftly maneuvering it onto the cooling tray, not even burning herself, and you resist the urge to clap sarcastically.  
“What now?”  
“Still not used to having free time, huh?”  
“No, I’m not sure I ever will be,” you shrugged. “It’s been a month and I’ve done hardly anything, and I’m losing my muscles,” you said like that was the worst thing about this, like that was your biggest problem.  
“Oh we can’t have that, we’ll have to get you hauling sandbags around or something.”  
“I can just flex my guns in the sun, pretend to be moving stuff. It’ll be good for morale,” you’re both laughing as you pose a little, as stupidly as you can, purposefully trying to make her laugh.  
“Eugene might faint.”  
“Oh he’s harmless, at least it’ll make everyone laugh,” you grinned. “Some gay girls might crawl out of the woodwork to see me though, which would be good as no one’s put themselves forward.”  
“Maybe they’ve tried and you haven’t noticed?” She’s still smiling but it’s somehow quieter, more serious, and it’s like there’s a vacuum around the space you two inhabit; your entire being is focused upon her and the small possibility that she’s flirting with you.  
“I’d like to think that they’d be prepared to try a little harder considering that it’s the end of the world and all that. We don’t really have time to find out if our political views are the same.”  
“So you think this person should be more obvious?” she’d stepped a little closer, and you could feel yourself leaning towards her like a flower towards the sun.  
“I mean the world’s ending, wasting time, all those cliché’s, you know,” you stuttered, disarmed by her eyes which are the clearest blue you’d ever seen.  
“Surely all of those things would also work the other way?” she’s almost grinning now, but she’s trying hard to keep her facial expression under control, and you’re slightly intimidated beside yourself (after all you’ve seen her with the knife you know she still wears strapped to her belt).  
“I don’t know, most of the people around here are pretty competent with knives, I wouldn’t want to accidentally anger anyone, end up with a knife to my throat.”  
“In a world with walkers a knife to the throat from a scandalised girl isn’t exactly the way you want to go.” She steps forward again with a smile and you’re aware that she’s a couple of inches shorter than you, and her face is tilted up towards you, bright against the backdrop of the gloomy kitchen, the sun struggling weakly through the open blinds.  
“Exactly,” your voice almost wobbles and you feel like you’re slightly out of breath, and your true status as a useless lesbian is revealed because you are practically frozen in place, ignoring the raised eyebrow and the way that she’s been practically daring you since you started this whole enterprise, like she knows that you stare at her across rooms occasionally and you considered moving your sleeping bag closer to her under the guise of “Eugene kicks”. “Sometimes I just need a push in the right direction.”  
Carol’s still for a moment and then she seems to make a choice, taking the decision out of your hands when she presses a quick kiss to your lips, smiling as she draws back a little bit, taking a moment to gauge your shocked but unmistakably cheerful countenance, smiling when you slide a hand around the back of her neck and draw her into another kiss.


End file.
